


From An Ending, Return

by Laure Alexander (ladyoneill)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Het, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:46:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/Laure%20Alexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley's dead, Gunn is dying, Angel and his remaining companions face impossible odds...until a horde of slayers arrive to drive back the demons and stop the apocalypse. He may have lost Buffy to Spike and his newly returned son is falling for the Slayer's kid sister, but, to his surprise, the Senior Partners give him the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart and the return of three dead as a prize. One is easy, the second follows the first, but the third...The third may become the love of his life...if they don't kill each other first...or again in the returnee's case.  My take on what happened after Not Fade Away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From An Ending, Return

**Author's Note:**

> Written from the 2012 vampirebigbang on LJ. 
> 
> Also a prequel to my 2009 apocabigbang AtS/BtVS/SPN crossover to bring about the end of the apocalypse. apokalypsis (revelation) can be found [ here](http://www.meanderingmuse.com/apocaficbtvs.html)

_  
In a dingy hookah bar, a demon who never consciously harmed a soul, shoots and kills a man his boss believes will betray him._

_In a lord's court, his memories restored, a man dies as a god rages._

_In an alley another man struggles to breathe, his wounds slowly killing him as demons charge for the final battle._

_In the same alley, two vampires with souls, joined now by a fallen god, face the demonic horde without fear as the rain falls and the noise rises. The taller vampire almost smiles at the sight of the dragon--he always wanted to slay a dragon--and raises his sword._

_It could have ended there..._

_But it didn't._

*****

Over the howl of the demons, Spike was the first to hear something else. As he dove into the horde, tearing them apart with blade, fangs and bare hands, he heard yelling.

Girls yelling.

And one voice over all the rest, a voice he thought he'd never hear again, giving the orders, rallying her troops and sending them to war. A voice his ears were always listening for.

Eyes lighting with a fierce joy, he whooped and swung his sword at the nearest head, moving steadily towards that beautiful voice.

Angel heard the girls as well but didn't realize the significance at first, not until he saw the first wave coming from behind the demons, plowing through them, destroying them.

Hundreds of teenagers, armed to the teeth, super strong, and completely determined to wipe out every demon in their way.

And at the head of their charge was the first, by her side, the second.

"Buffy," he whispered, shocked to the core that she'd come. He'd called to say a vague goodbye, left a message on her service, but...how?

"D'you really think we'd be out of the loop on an apocalypse?" Willow chirped as she teleported in next to him and waved her hands at a demon, turning it into a tiny field mouse.

"I...Willow?" 

She grinned at him, smacked him on the shoulder, and dove into the fray between he and Spike.

Angel had known she was powerful but for a moment he was completely in awe, then a demon charged him and he rejoined the battle. The battle in which the tide was definitely turning. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gunn collapse, but also saw Xander and Dawn pulling him out of the fight and back towards what appeared to be a mobile hospital. Whirling to behead another demon, he saw Illyria fighting her way towards the Slayers, and heard Spike yell a warning that the god was on their side. As the demonic forces began slowly to dwindle in number, Angel felt a blast of heat and looked up to see the dragon.

Grinning wildly, still trying not to hope, he jumped for a fire escape, clambering up it and heading for the nearest roof from which to launch himself. As he hit the dragon's back and hung on as it dipped and spiraled, a giddy joy filled him and he jammed his sword into its brain.

As it fell, he fell as well, but, for the first time, he thought...just maybe he'd survive this.

"Oof, you need to cut back on the fat in your blood."

Angel gaped at Connor who'd caught him and was now setting him on his feet. "I thought I told you to go home."

Connor grinned. "Apparently I don't obey any of my parents," he laughed, and ran towards the battle.

Rolling his eyes at the impulsiveness of youth, Angel followed.

Spike finally broke free of the demons and reached Buffy's side. She finished staking a vampire and as the dust settled between them looked up at him.

Then she punched him in the nose and called him an idiot.

Grinning in delight, Spike wrapped one arm around her waist and jerked her into a kiss. As she melted into him, they both ignored Faith's waspish complaint, "This really ain't the time to be getting some, B!"

*****

The Slayers turned the tide and kept the battle contained to a nine or ten block area. It lasted nearly twenty-four hours but finally, the remains of the demon horde retreated back to Hell, leaving hundreds of mangled corpses. There were human casualties as well--too many civilians, trapped and unable to escape, despite the efforts of Willow and her coven, Xander, Dawn and a handful of Watchers. There were also thirty-two Slayers between the ages of twelve and twenty dead.

The price was high, but the city was saved.

The world was saved from another apocalypse.

As the realization that they'd won slowly sank into Angel's mind, he looked around, his body exhausted, blood seeping from dozens of little wounds. All he wanted to do was collapse, but he was driven to find...

There.

Connor limped towards him, sword slung over his shoulder, shirt ripped to shreds revealing a myriad of cuts and bruises, but he was alive, and he was smiling.

Or grimacing, Angel didn't care, just staggered over to the boy and pulled him into his arms.

"See, you needed me."

Angel grunted and tightened his arms until his son started to squirm.

"Y'know, I always did wonder if you had a thing for boys, too," came a light but snarky voice a few feet away.

Half-releasing Connor, Angel swivelled his head to gape at Buffy. Huh?

She grinned tiredly, wincing as the muscles pulled at a purple bruise across her mouth and cheek. 

Connor pulled away and cocked his head inquisitively. "Isn't he kind of old for me?"

"Wasn't too old for me about five years back." She was still grinning, that kind of smile that you got when you were exhausted from battle but you'd won. The giddy kind.

"This is my son, Buffy."

She flushed. "Oops. So, you're Connor? Faith told me about you, then I forgot about you, and now I remember you. Angel?" She turned to glare at Angel who gave her a tired, sheepish look. "Yeah, tell me later. Did I ever smack you for screwing Darla in the first place?"

Giving her a disgruntled look, Angel reached out and reeled her into a hug. "You can do it later. I'm so glad you're alive," he whispered into her hair. She hugged him back, clinging to him for a moment, until they were interrupted by a loud, "OY."

Laughing, again in that giddy, inappropriate way in the face of near destruction, Buffy stepped out of Angel's embrace and gave him a sad little shrug, before turning to Spike and sinking into his arms.

Angel watched her with his eldest childe, his favorite, and sighed softly. He was too exhausted to regret her loss. It would hit later, but right now there was too much to do. They needed to find some place safe to stay. They needed to figure out what to say to the press and the government and the military and...just too damn much.

Everything hit and Angel dropped like a stone.

Spike snorted and Connor sighed and reached down to heft his father over his shoulder.

"Wow, you're strong." The comment came from behind him and he turned to see a tall, pretty brunette striding towards them. She was covered in dust and sticky with sweat, but didn't look wounded.

"Dawn, are you okay?" Buffy demanded, breaking away from Spike to go hug her sister.

"Yeah, I'm fine. We've got a triage set up a couple blocks over. Will says it's Angel's old hotel." Over Buffy's shoulder she waved at Spike. "Hey, Spike. So, you're not dead anymore. Do I need to punch you?"

"Your sister did that already, 'bit." He joined the two women, slipping an arm around Buffy's waist as Dawn pulled back but took her sister's free hand.

"Okay, let's head out," she called loudly to those still alive. Most of the Slayers who were alive were wounded, but only a handful weren't mobile, and the Watchers were taking care of those.

And the dead.

Buffy wasn't ready to face that, yet, and determinedly started walking to the one structure in the area that seemed amazingly intact.

The lobby of the hotel looked like an emergency room full of girls in various states of injury and consciousness. A few were even hooked to IV bags. The Watchers had come prepared. 

She watched Connor take Angel up the staircase, then turned to find Giles who was directing traffic. Looking up from a clipboard, he smiled at her in relief then hugged her with one arm.

"Were you worried?" She asked, smiling tiredly up at him.

"I'm always worried, but you always beat the odds." Seeing him glance over her shoulder, she wasn't surprised to see his smile turn to a glare. "I see he's as hard to kill as you."

"Please play nice. I don't have the energy to mediate."

Slowly he nodded and looked back down at his clipboard. "We lost a lot, Buffy. Nowhere near the number of civilians, or demons for that matter, but the cost was high."

"It always is. Wesley's dead."

Giles looked stricken for a moment, then nodded and jotted something down. "I know that one of Angel's companions was taken to the hospital, but I wasn't sure who."

"Gunn, I think." She felt Spike's hand on her shoulder, his presence at her back.

"It was Gunn," he confirmed. "Dunno if he'll make it. Giles."

"Spike."

Buffy rolled her eyes but relaxed back against Spike. Giles stiffened, but he wasn't looking at them anymore.

"He will live," came a cool voice from behind them.

Turning away from Spike, Buffy startled for only a moment, then reached for the knife at her belt. Her arm was grabbed by Spike before she could raise it.

"You must have missed me yelling she's on our side."

"That's a demon," Buffy hissed.

"I'm a vampire. You should know by now that there are shades of gray."

Illyria cocked her head and examined Buffy as if she was a bug.

"This is the one you refused me for? This little creature?" She snorted in disgust. "She is flesh and blood and will die. I would have raised you to godhood."

"You wanted to make me your pet, Illyria," Spike chuckled.

Her eyes zipped to his, fiery and cold at the same time. "One must break before rising."

"Pet?" Buffy's anger was gone and now she was just amused. "Like, on a leash?" Now she was laughing.

Spike dipped his shaking head and sighed heavily.

"Where is Angel? I assume he survived." Illyria changed the subject and scanned the room.

"Big git passed out. He's upstairs. You going to hang around?"

"I won."

"Er, we won," Buffy pointed out only to take an instinctive step back at Illyria's glower. "Sure, you won."

Turning, Illyria strolled magnificently to the stairs.

"She's not going to make Angel her pet, is she?" 

At Buffy's stage whisper, Spike broke into helpless laughter.

Giles grabbed both of them, shaking them slightly, and put them to work.

Upstairs, Connor looked up as Illyria entered the room. Angel was on the bed, asleep or unconscious. He didn't know what was normal for his father. There was a bit of regret at that, but it was all mixed in with the anger at him that he was still trying to parse through.

"He is sleeping."

"Yeah."

"We won and yet I have nothing to rule and, without Wesley, nowhere to go." The god looked almost flustered.

"Um...I guess you can stay here. There are other rooms down the hall with beds."

"I don't sleep." Lifting her head, she looked up towards the ceiling. "Rain is coming to wash the gore from the streets." She glanced down at the gore crusted on her body and with a thought her armor was gone.

Connor gaped at all that blue and gold skin and dark pink nipples. Illyria smirked and left to head to the roof and the rain.

"Probably not a good idea to let your mind wander in that direction," Angel pointed out in a weak voice.

Jerking his attention back to his father, Connor picked up the wet cloth he'd been using to wash the worst of the dirt and blood away from Angels' face and hands. He could feel himself blushing. "Yeah, well, not many blue, naked women in my neck of the woods."

"Your woods have expanded."

Connor nodded. "Yeah, no really going back once you've seen gay Paree."

"School." Angel tried to sound stern.

"I'm thinking about transferring to UCLA. I can't just be a student, but I don't want to give it up all together."

There was silence for a moment as Connor drew the cloth up Angel's arm where his shirt was torn away, then Angel sighed. "You'll always have a place here or wherever I am."

"Thanks, but I'm not giving up the frat I worked so hard to get into." Chuckling, the kid shook his head. "I'll fight demons on the weekends. I have keg parties to attend and beer pong to play."

"And classes to attend and a degree to get."

"Yeah, yeah." Connor smiled slightly and watched Angel--his father, his real father, and wasn't that a kick in the pants--drift back to sleep. He continued to bathe his torso and face for a few minutes, then rose, stretching, to go find something to eat.

*****

_Angel dreams. He knows it's a dream because he's in his office at Wolfram & Hart and not a thing is out of place or damaged._

_And Lindsey McDonald is sitting on one of the sofas, arms stretched along the back, a deep frown on his face. He's wearing jeans and a plaid shirt and there are bloody holes in the cloth, staining the plaid reddish black with dried ichor._

_Right, Angel had him killed._

_"Did you ever trust me, Angel?"_

_No... He couldn't risk it. Trusting Lindsey, it would have created too many possibilities, things he didn't and still doesn't want to face._

_"Do you remember when we first met? Do you remember the first time you manhandled me against something? Do you remember how hard I got?"_

_Lindsey's lips turn up in a smirk. "How hard you got?"_

_No._

_Yes._

_"Why are you here in my dreams, Lindsey?" he growls, taking a menacing step towards him._

_Lindsey gives him a laconic look, not at all frightened. "You had me killed. I'm going to haunt you." Suddenly he leans forward and Angel is crouching in front of him and they're nearly touching. He whispers, "I'm going to make you regret all you let slip away, all we could have been."_

_"We're enemies." He's truly confused._

_Laughing, Lindsey grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him into a deeply passionate kiss. In his preternaturally strong grasp, Angel feels helpless and surrenders to the kiss, returning it, until suddenly it stops, and no one is touching him._

_Opening his eyes, he finds himself in darkness and from out of it comes a whisper, "If you had trusted me, let me live, Angel, five years of bottled up desire could have been ours to free and savor. You think you need someone sweet and tender, but you need a darkness to balance your own, and a light to keep you there, and I would have been that for you."_

_The voice fades, the darkness fades, and Angel dreams of Hell._

__*****

When he woke again, he didn't remember the dream and blamed his lingering arousal on Buffy's presence. He took care of that in the shower, trying not to think about Buffy and Spike...together. 

By the time evening fell and Angel felt strong enough to face the future, the lobby of the Hyperion was mostly empty. The Slayers were taking up a couple floors, the Watcher's Council having had fresh bedding delivered as well as food. The few badly injured had been taken to the nearest, open hospital, and admitted as civilian survivors. The only ones remaining were the inner core of the Scooby Gang, Spike, Connor and Illyria. The latter was hovering next to one of the fake plants Cordelia had placed in the lobby and, as he passed the god, he startled to realize she was slowly, cell by cell turning plastic into real leaves and flowers.

Shaking that off, he approached his son, who rose and gave him a quick hug, then dragged him onto one of the sofas. Dawn was sitting at the other end and he looked between the two kids, then mentally sighed, because the want between them was potent.

Across the room, cuddling with Buffy, Spike smirked at him.

Angel glared back.

"Angel," Giles greeted with a cool nod. "I won't even bother asking what you thought you were doing, why you didn't come to us with the truth and for help. Not tonight. We can debrief in the days to come." He relaxed back and gestured to the tables strewn with bottles of beer and cartons of Chinese takeout. "Tonight we celebrate our survival."

Nodding, Angel caught the blood bag Spike tossed at his head, and asked, "Has anyone heard about Gunn?" The question was directed mostly to his own people, but Xander answered.

"Yeah, I talked to the hospital about an hour ago. He's in critical but stable condition. They're guardedly saying he'll probably survive. You know hospitals. Or, maybe you don't. He's the worst off of those who lived."

Dawn piped in, "We have half a dozen Slayers in ICU, too, but they'll heal. We'll need to figure out how to get them out before they freak out the doctors." 

"The Council has power of attorneys on all the Slayers, remember? We'll set up a phony private hospital and get them transferred. The hospitals are so slammed they'll probably be grateful. So, that's one thing easily handled, what about damage control? Giles?"

As Xander and Giles started to discuss media spin, Angel wondered when the boy--no, he was not a boy any longer--had lost his eye and grown up. Opening his blood bag he took a sip and listened to the well-reasoned arguments.

Amazing how a couple of days ago he'd expected to go out in a blaze of demon fire. 

Or death by lawyers.

What was he going to do about Wolfram & Hart?

*****

Much later, alone in one of the suites, they sat on a couch, curled together with Buffy's legs tucked over Spike's lap and his arm around her calves, their hands clasped. He told her his story--being a ghost and trapped at Wolfram & Hart, becoming solid and whole again and wanting to see her but being afraid. His voice low and shaky and times, he admitted it all, all his insecurities, all his love.

He still didn't feel worthy of her and so he'd stayed by Angel's side, the first to volunteer to follow him into the breach and to certain death.

And, yet, here he was again, still alive, the survivor of another apocalypse.

And, here she was, letting him touch her, hold her, and he felt...everything.

Buffy flushed and tightened her fingers around his. Her own story wasn't so heroic--refusing to join the Watcher Council or her sister Slayers, running off to Rome with Dawn to try to live a normal life. Not even hunting anymore, until she'd discovered the truth about the one man she'd had any interest in--she glossed over that when Spike scowled.

"Prat did both Dru and Darla together, y'know."

She turned red at that and ducked her eyes. "Well, um...He is kind of...I think he put me under a spell."

"Yeah, okay, let's go with that." Last thing Spike wanted to do was talk about the Immortal dickhead. The sooner they all just forgot him, the better. "Anyway, you came back into the game when you were needed."

Shrugging her shoulders, Buffy explained, "Well, there are enough trained Slayers to handle the every day but this was another apocalypse. Y'know, I think the month of May is cursed or something. They always seem to come around that time of year."

Spike silently acknowledge the truth to that but had to ask, "But you didn't know I was alive?"

"No, Andrew, curse him, kept your secret. He's never kept a secret in his life. He was here; he had to know you were alive, so I will call him later in London and yell at him until he pees himself." She gave him a rueful smile. "But, I didn't come here for Angel, either. You believe me, right?"

"I heard the cookie speech you know. Pretty much the stupidest metaphor ever..." He grinned at her outraged "hey". "But, you were baking for him."

"...Maybe, at the time. Spike, we weren't in a good enough place. It's not that I regretted that last night together. We both needed it. I was lost, cast out, literally, from my family, and yet there you were, the only one to believe in me. But, I wasn't ready for you, either. I really needed to find me."

"So, masturbation."

Laughing, she smacked him, then turned so she was curled against him and pressed her lips to his. "No!...Okay, yeah. You are hard to live up to, buster."

Spike grinned in smug satisfaction and pulled her into a deeper kiss. When they finally broke apart and she was flushed and almost glowing, he asked softly, "So, it's me?"

"Yeah. I looked at Angel and I looked at you, and you were the one who infuriated me and, yet, all I wanted to do was kiss you."

"You punched me."

"Violence and desire pretty much go hand in hand for a Slayer."

Cupping her chin in one hand, he ran the other through her tangled hair, then kissed her again. "And Angel?"

"He's the past. I finally have moved on from him. I'm probably going to hurt him." Buffy sighed softly and let her head rest on his shoulder. "Try not to be too gleeful, okay?"

"I'll try." He crossed his fingers behind his back, though.

*****

"Well, at least I don't have to call you Aunt Dawn."

Dawn snorted and grabbed two beers out of the fridge. Returning to the couch in Connor's old room, she handed him one, then plopped down beside him, wincing at the puff of dust that flew up. "Yeah, well, I was always pretty sure Buffy and Angel were over. I mean, she's barely mentioned him over the last year. Not that she's mentioned Spike much either, but then she thought he was dead."

"So, you're pro-Spike?"

She grinned and opened her beer to take a sip. "He used to babysit me. Angel never knew what to do with me."

Connor nearly choked on his beer. "Spike the babysitter?"

"Yep." Her laughter faded and she felt an old sorrow pass through her. "Buffy died for four months and Spike was always there for me. And that was before he got his soul. I always wanted them to get together."

"I don't know him very well. Heck, I don't know my own father very well. The memories of two lives are all mixed up together and it's hard to tell what emotions go with what truth or lie."

"Yeah, I know. I came into existence at fourteen with a full set of memories, memories that were imposed on everyone else, too."

They both looked at each other, then clinked their bottles together. 

"Well, here's to two very screwed up people..." Connor began.

Dawn finished, "Trying to figure out just where they fit."

They smiled at each other, then he nodded towards the beer. "Are you old enough to be drinking that?"

She smirked. "Technically I'm only three."

"I was born three years ago, too, but at least I grew up...I think. Though I'm pretty sure in either life I'm not old enough to drink either."

"It'll be our little secret."

They finished their beers in companionable silence and then Connor asked slyly, "So, you have a boyfriend back in Italy?"

"Nope, why?"

He grinned even wider and slid across the couch towards her.

Dawn laughed. "Oh, this is going to blow their minds!"

"A part of me remembers that making my father miserable is one of my life goals." Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her onto his lap and into a hot and heavy kiss.

*****

Angel stepped into Wolfram & Hart and found...nothing out of the ordinary. The guard smiled at him and waved him in without the need for using his pass card...which he was pretty sure had been lost somewhere during the battle. A few lawyers and clerks greeted him as if nothing had happened.

The last time he'd been here, the place had been emptied. Even Harmony had fled, but now she was back at her desk, wearing pink and arranging her unicorn collection. She, at least, looked a bit guilty as she handed him a mug of warm blood.

"Hey, boss. Black Angus cow from Scotland today."

"Um...Harmony?"

"Yeah," she drew out, shrugging her shoulders and giving him a sheepish look. "Sorry about the whole betrayal thing?"

"Why are you here?"

"Did you fire me? Come on, Angel! One little indiscretion and I don't have a soul, remember? It's hard for me to do what's right or what's right for, you know, other people and not me."

Staring at her in bafflement, Angel finally shook his head and broke into her continuing monologue, "I didn't fire you." That shut her up and she frowned in confusion. "I meant...Why is everyone here like nothing happened? Big battle a couple miles away? Destroyed ten city blocks? Thousands dead?" He felt really guilty about that, but, really, it was the demons who'd brought the death and destruction and, if they'd won, they'd have done a lot worse than kill a couple thousand humans.

"Oh, yeah, that." Harmony shrugged her shoulders and picked up her Dayplanner. "The new liaison from Wolfram & Hart--not Hamilton, really, not him--has an appointment in about fifteen minutes to negotiate a new deal."

"What?"

"I think you won...maybe. Actually, I'm kind of surprised you showed up today."

"I'm surprised everyone showed up," he yelled.

"Geez, take a chill pill, boss man. They're lawyers. There are parking tickets to fix and, y'know, murderers to get off. They had a nice two day vacation but now it's back to work. Oh, R&D has some new weapons for you to look at and asked if you could stop by around one, and I've got a list from HR of candidates to fill Wesley's position. Oh, sorry about him, Angel, but, hey, I hear Gunn survived. Will he be coming back as lead counsel?"

"I'm pretty sure that's a big no." Taking his mug, he started to back away and towards his office, his mind whirling. 

So...everything went on like nothing had happened?

Stepping into his office, Angel saw that it was in pristine condition. He was pretty sure the carpet had even been cleaned. Taking a sip from his mug, he sat down at his desk, then set down the mug and stared at the rich wood unstained by blood or scarred by claws.

It was really disconcerting. He'd expected to find the place still trashed, the building empty. While the battle hadn't reached within two blocks of the building, most of the surrounding businesses were closed. Most of the city was shut down, trying to recover and go into denial over the truth. The government was claiming it was a massive gas explosion that then caused hallucinations.

Most people were buying it and those who weren't were getting happy pills forced on them.

Giles had explained it the night before, when the inner circle was sitting around the lounge at the Hyperion eating Chinese takeout because nothing closed down China Town.  
 _  
"A number of years ago the Council began to face what seemed to be the inevitable revelation of vampires and demons to the world at large. Technology was reaching the point where it was becoming impossible to contain all the rumors. We began to place our people in positions of power in the United States, Great Britain, Russia--well, at that time it was still the USSR--China, Japan and a few other major powers. The current vice president is one of ours. He's already convinced Los Angeles' mayor that it was a gas explosion."_

_"And the demons everyone saw? The little girls fighting them?" Angel asked, trying to wrap his head around the fact that the second most powerful person in the country was a Watcher._

_"The gas caused mass hallucinations and panic. We have people scouring the Internet and news sources, removing any videos or images."_

_"Yay for Big Brother?" Willow mockingly cheered. "Really, Giles?"_

_He scowled at her. "Are you ready for the world to know?"_

_"I don't like censorship." She scowled back._

_"I'm a librarian. You think I do? On the other hand, I'm all for keeping the world governments from experimenting on all of you."_

_Willow sank down into a grumpy pile of witch as Spike chimed in with, "Yeah, ditto."_

_Buffy rolled her eyes. "Okay, everyone, cool it. Yeah, it sucks, but this is necessary. One of those necessary evil thingies. What we need are cops like the Sunnydale ones all over, the completely clueless kind."_

_"I'm pretty sure that Wilkins approved the appointment of police officers who were easily susceptible to cover ups and lies. After his death, they didn't have time to recruit officers who had any intelligence. But, let's try to remember that it's a good thing that not every town has a demon supporter for a mayor."_

_Snorting at Giles, Buffy reached for an eggroll, then settled back into Spike's arms._

_Angel felt a pang..._

A polite, feminine cough brought him out of his memories and he looked up to see Lilah standing in front of his desk, a cool and calculating look on her face, a red scarf looped around her neck.

He shouldn't have been surprised.

"Congratulations. No one, and I mean that, thought you could pull it off, but then we also believed you'd alienated the Slayer and the Watcher's Council."

"I guess I couldn't pull off evil well enough to fool those who really knew me."

She smirked and took a seat. "The Senior Partners are really not happy about their interference. They're blaming the Powers That Be, though, so let them fight it out on the celestial plane and in the hell dimensions. They're ceding Los Angeles to you."

Angel took a sip of blood and swallowed slowly, his eyes locked on Lilah's. She didn't squirm, but, then, he remembered she never really did. Always a worthy opponent, he'd expected her to be the Wolfram & Hart liaison the year before. Eve had never been at her level of competency and toughness. "What exactly does that mean, Lilah?"

Gesturing around the room, she smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "All of this, the building, the lawyers, their contracts even, belong to you. You get R&D, the archives, everything but the White Room. There's no reason for you to be connected to the Senior Partners if you're running this place on your own. And, don't worry, I have the financials being delivered this afternoon. Even if you cut most of the demonic representation, you'll still be able to pay all the bills and I estimate that within two years you'll turn a modest profit."

"I don't really want to run a major law corporation."

"Yeah, well life and afterlife sucks. You can, of course, disband the whole operation, fire all the attorneys and staff, who will mostly be absorbed by other branches and their contracts binding them to Hell renewed, or..." she stressed the word and smirked at him. "You can use this place to do the good you hoped to do when you took over last year. There's a lot of power and potential here. Think of how you can help your little Slayer friends. Maybe you can help them save the world for good some day."

"Why would the Senior Partners offer me this? Do they think they can still seduce me to their side?"

"No, but you and Spike both survived, the two vampires with souls. They believe that their apocalypse is simply delayed and some day they'll still win with one of you, whether you're running this branch or back to helping the hopeless."

As Angel pondered her words, trying to find the loopholes, Lilah presented him with the real prize.

"They want you here, though, Angel, because they believe that it will begin here. So, if you're smart, you probably will tell me to go back to Hell and leave this place to rot, but, and it's a big but, they have something to sweeten the pot."

When he blinked, she gave him a brilliant smile and continued, "The return of some of your Hell trapped dead, Angel. Surely there are one or two people you'd like back."

*****

Three trapped in Hell, released into his care and under contract only to him. While still technically dead like Lilah, they would exist forever and never return to Hell, or, if they wanted, simply fade to nothing or let the Powers that Be determine if they were worthy of Heaven or rebirth.

Trying not to show any eagerness, Angel had thrown out that random number, certain that Lilah would negotiate him down to one, and he knew the name of that one.

Wesley, definitely. While the former Watcher had known what his fate would be when he signed the contract with Wolfram & Hart, Angel still felt guilty for bringing him into this mess and then getting him killed.

He and Spike were already damned. Nothing would save them from Hell, no matter how many times they saved the world, though Spike had never actually signed a contract so he wasn't condemned to Wolfram & Hart's version of Hell.

Fred was lost to them all for good. He would never stop mourning her or regretting involving the most innocent among them, but at least she wasn't damned. She was just...gone.

Lorne...Well, he was a demon already. Angel wasn't sure where he'd go when he died. Anyway, it was moot, as he wasn't dead and the deal was for those currently in Hell.

If Gunn had died, he would easily have been number two, but he was alive--in a coma, but the doctors said it was healing one. Angel had clarified that all those alive contracted to the L.A. branch of Wolfram & Hart were now his to keep or release. None of them would go to Hell unless he wanted them to.

So, he still had two more.

While he was pondering, he'd sent Lilah to fetch Wesley's contract from records.

He was still trying to figure out who he wanted back when she returned with a thin red file, innocuous looking with a typed label and an employment contract that consisted of one page. All the other forms--insurance, retirement benefits, because you could still retire alive from the company, etc.--were in a different file in Human and Non-human Resources. This was in the locked cabinet accessible only by the Senior Partners and their liaison. 

Taking a seat across from him, Lilah handed him the file and sat back, crossing her long legs encased in real silk stockings. She so loved coming back to Earth where she could dress in silk and linen--real fabrics unlike the horrors of polyesters in Hell.

"It's very simple, Angel. They all are."

"I remember," he growled. Remembered barely reading it, not caring, since he was already going to Hell. This time he read over it carefully, noting where Wesley had initialed the perpetuity clause and then signed it. There was a new section at the bottom that in very simple language stated _that the soul of the deceased Wesley Wyndham-Price was now and forevermore, while he lived as vampire or human, ceded to Angel aka Angelus, vampire with a soul, CEO of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram & Hart, to do with as he willed, including, but not limited to, allowing him to fade to nothing or petition the Powers that Be to be admitted to Heaven or a heavenly dimension or be reborn. If Angel stepped down as CEO or died, the contract would become null and void and the soul of the said Wesley Wyndham-Price would belong to him and him alone until he no longer wanted to exist, at which time he would not return to Hell or any hell dimension but his fate would be decided by the Powers That Be to fade to nothing, be reborn, or transfer to Heaven or a heavenly dimension, depending on the actions of the soul after being returned with his body to Earth. During this time, Wesley Wyndham-Price will not be alive, neither will he be dead. He will function as a living being but will not need to maintain the body to do so. He will not age nor will he die._

The transfer section had been signed by someone named 'Boronoly, Senior Partner, Wolfram & Hart, All Dimensions' and there was a space for Angel to accept as CEO of the LA branch.

He hesitated.

"We're not trying to screw you here, Angel. You won, fair and square, or by sneakily bringing in an army of Slayers, whatever. A few of the Senior Partners were actually impressed by first your reckless stupidity and then your actual winning. You killed the dragon. No one's managed to kill that dragon in a couple hundred thousand years. Also, they didn't count on Illyria fighting with you and they acknowledge that was their error. Actually, they acknowledged it was some lowly clerk's who's now roasting on a spit in Boronoly's kitchen pit for all eternity."

Angel tried not to cringe and Lilah smirked.

"I've missed this. I petitioned to be your permanent liaison but they appointed that cow, Eve. She's human now, right? Did she survive?"

"I have no idea."

"Little worms like her always do," she sighed, then pointed at the contract. "I'd say get a lawyer to review that, but..." Another shrug of her shoulders and a smirk, but then it slowly faded as he read over the clause again. "Angel...It's Wesley. There are no tricks there. You get him back, alive as I am, which, okay, isn't alive, but you decide what happens to him. Whatever you decide or even if you die, he will never go back to Hell."

Still he hesitated, and she leaned forward, nearly pleading, "Get him out, Angel. He's been there for nearly three days. It's already been an eternity of pain. Please."

At her 'please', Angel jerked his head up and stared into her eyes. There was something there, something real and painful and needy and...he knew those emotions. "You really did love him."

"I still love him. Hell hasn't burned that out of me."

Truth rang in her words and slowly Angel nodded and reached for a pen.

*****

As it would take a day to process the forms and get Wesley out--though he'd immediately be transferred to a holding area where he'd suffer no more pain--Angel returned to the Hyperion to find it mostly devoid of Slayers. Giles was at the hospital getting several of the injured girls released. Faith and the son of a Slayer turned Watcher were upstairs celebrating their survival, and Xander and Willow and her girlfriend, Kennedy were around somewhere.

Dawn was sweeping the very dusty floor as Connor was stuffing all the empty bottles and cartoons into a trash bag. As he approached them, he got a whiff of...them, together.

"Her sister is very overprotective," he growled in his son's direction and was rewarded with an unrepentant grin.

"I'm seventeen," Dawn retorted, "And I know just how old or young Buffy was, buster, and the age difference between me and Connor is negligible in comparison."

Angel flushed as much as he could and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Doesn't mean it's right," he mumbled.

Dawn and Connor snorted in unison laughter as Angel slouched past them and up the stairs, only to run into Spike half way up, who smelled even more of Buffy than Connor did of her sister. He went with his instinct and that was to grab the lapels of his black shirt and slam him into the nearest wall.

Spike growled, shifted, and shoved back, but it was like trying to move a bus. Angel had his feet planted and his angry face on.

"We really going to do this, Angelus?"

"Don't call me that, William."

Snarling, Spike struggled and kicked Angel in the shin. The older vampire's response was to slam him harder into the wall sending a cascade of plaster dust down on top of them. They both growled and shoved and struggled until a stake went flying between the very narrow space between their heads to embed itself in the ceiling near the bottom of the stairs.

"Really? You're really going to fight over me? I'm pretty sure I mentioned oil wrestling the last time you asses postured like this."

Both of them turned their heads to give her sheepish and human looks, then they both released each other and pushed away.

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a foot on the floor as she leaned one shoulder against the wall at the top of the stairs. "I could always go back to the Immortal..." She grinned at their squawking, then made herself look stern and pointed back down the stairs. "Go to the bar, get shit faced, and talk this out like grown ups."

"He never grew up," Angel sniped at Spike, who stuck his tongue out at his sire.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy pointed again, then retreated down the hall towards her room.

Angel and Spike glared at each other then heaved heavy sighs and stomped down the stairs. 

"You got any Scotch around here?"

"I'm Irish."

"So it's poteen, ye old bog trotter?"

Angel smacked Spike's shoulder and Spike nearly tripped Angel down the last two stairs.

Both could hear Buffy's "idiots" from upstairs.

*****

Having secured the release of the Slayers from the hospital and finding a place for those still needing medical attention in the home of a former Watcher in the Hollywood Hills, under the care of Willow and a few other of the older Slayers, Giles returned to the Hyperion to find Dawn and Connor curled on a couch watching the news on television, and Angel and Spike slumped on the floor, backs to the bar, surrounded by empty liquor bottles.

"Should I ask?" he asked Dawn softly, drawing her attention to the vampires.

"Buffy."

"Ah."

"Giles, ol' sport, ol' watchering sporty sport," Spike cried out drunkenly, frantically waving him over. 

Giles held his ground and gave both vampires stern looks. "What are you doing?"

"I won Buffy."

Dawn choked on a laugh.

Angel growled and grabbed the bottle from Spike, draining it and letting it slip down to the pile next to him. "I'm telling her you said that," he slurred.

Spike just grinned sloppily, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled over onto Angel who promptly shoved him off of him, before sliding down until he was laying flat and staring at the ceiling which was moving back and forth.

"Charming," Giles said sarcastically before heading up to his room. If he was lucky, they'd stake each other.

Not very charitable but the giddiness over not dying in an apocalypse had worn off and he was tired and grumpy from dealing with bureaucrats and the way too many dead. 

Watchers were only meant to bury one girl, not dozens.

Buffy was sitting at the top of the stairs flipping through a fashion magazine. She gave him a small smile and patted the area next to him. With a groan, Giles sank down next to her and leaned against the wall.

"Have you been monitoring them?"

"They're both idiots but better drunk than trying to kill each other."

Her reply sounded lighthearted but he knew better. "Are you all right with your choice, Buffy?"

Setting down the magazine she looked at him and nodded, her face now solemn but determined. "I'll always love Angel. He was my first big love and will always be important. Coming to help him was never not an option, but, when I chose to come to L.A., I knew I wasn't ready to choose to be with him. When I saw Spike, though, it all clicked. He...he's been what I've been missing, what I've been looking for in Italy and with the Immortal and the other guys I've dated. I just didn't know it and didn't even think about the possibility because he was dead." A small, self-deprecating smile crossed her face. "I should have known he wouldn't stay dead."

"Will you be happy with him?"

Her smile turned brilliant. "I already am. Oh, he's a jackass, sorry but all men are, but I love him. I loved him back then. I just had way too much to deal with and didn't know how to show him or how to handle his love for me. I think his getting a soul for me, that blew me away, Giles. I didn't respond right."

"There is no right, Buffy. We just all muddle through." Reaching out, he squeezed her hand, then patted it before pushing himself to his feet. "I'm going to sleep for about twelve hours. We'll talk more in the morning about what we're going to do next."

"The school in Cleveland?"

"I think it's time."

She watched her Watcher, her friend, and pretty much dad, walk down the hallway, then turned back to catch Dawn kissing Angel's admittedly cute son. But, college boy son. She was down the stairs before she realized she'd gotten up, yelling, "Dawn!"

"I'm seventeen, you were seventeen, deal with it," Dawn yelled back before shoving Connor onto his back and climbing all over him as she kissed the stuffing out of him.

"Blind me now," Spike whined pathetically from a heap on the floor. "Angel's spawn is kissing the little bit." He shoved at Angel, who rolled over and snored.

Spike staggered to his feet and made a menacing move towards the couple on the couch, then toppled over only to be caught by Buffy who hauled one of his arms over her shoulder and half-dragged him towards the stairs.

"You're both idiots."

"But you love me," he slobbered into her neck.

"God help me, but I do, though I'm not holding your head while you puke."

"Vampire constipitution."

"I'm not sure if you meant constitution or constipation."

"Welcome to the family bickerson," Dawn chuckled down at Connor, who wrapped his arms around her and ground her hips down on his. "Your dad's just over there," she hissed.

"So we'll be very quiet," Connor whispered back before biting her earlobe and making her moan.

*****

Despite his vampire constitution, Angel had a hangover that felt like nails being pounded into his skull, and his whole body was stiff from sleeping on the hard wood floor. Sitting at his desk, drinking weak rat blood and hoping it would stay down, he pondered his other two choices while waiting for Wesley to return.

He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say to him. He knew his memories had returned with Connor's but they hadn't had time to address them.

Angel was still pondering and rubbing his aching temples when there was a puff of sulphuric smoke in front of his desk and Wesley stepped from it, back straight, eyes hard. There was stubble on his face and dried blood on his tattered clothing, but he was alert, his eyes darting around the office, before narrowing in on Angel.

"What did you give up to bring me back?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"Angel, what did you give up? I knew what I was getting into. I died and my fate was Hell."

"I didn't give up anything. I got a gift for winning. I get to bring back three people from Hell. I don't really understand why but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth."

"And you chose me?" Wesley asked skeptically.

Wincing at the coldness in his friend's voice, Angel nodded. "Of course."

"You know I got my memories back. We never had a chance to address that, but my time in Hell gave me ample opportunities to let my anger stew."

"Be mad, Wes, it's fine. I deserve it, but you're back."

Wesley stood there silently for a few minutes, then raised a hand to his throat. "Not alive, though."

"Here's the contract addendum I signed." 

Taking the contract, Angel held out, Wesley sank down into one of the chairs and read it through carefully, then slowly looked up. "Interesting. I won't be your puppet."

Angel tried to look scandalized but mostly was trying to figure out how to get his friend to not be angry with him. "Of course not. Wes, you can do anything want. You don't have to stay here. I'll release you and you can try for Heaven or the other options, or just go live." He winced again at Wesley's snort.

"I'm going to shower, shave and change. I take it the offices have been restored?" he asked, looking out through the open door to see a couple lawyers bustle by. At Angel's nod, he rose and headed for his office. "I'm not ready to forgive you, Angel," he said at the doorway, "But, I am grateful to be out of Hell."

Once Wesley was gone, Angel let his head sink to his desk with a sigh and closed his eyes. Nearly a half hour passed, taking with it his headache, which returned when he was interrupted by Lilah asking, "Is he okay?"

"Mad at me, but I can live with that." As Angel lifted his head, he saw the relief on her face before she dropped the mask and sat down to give him a cool look.

"You need to choose two more. There's no set deadline, but...there's a deadline. The Senior Partners won't let you dither for long."

It wasn't her comment, it was that look. That look of...love...that made his second choice suddenly easy.

"Okay. I want you."

Lilah twitched, then frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Anyone in Wolfram & Hart's Hell. Anyone bound by their contract, right?"

"Yes."

"That would include you."

Incomprehension passed over her face and she shook her head. "Angel, you have to despise me." She sank into the chair Wesley had vacated, staring at him with true emotion in her eyes. 

"Usually, but you did help us before you died, and...He loves you. It's twisted, but then what isn't in our lives?" If he sounded bitter, he was. Spike had won Buffy in the end, and he had to put on a happy face about it, but he wasn't. His demented childe was nowhere near good enough for her. "The first time Wesley came around after being fired from the Council, all rogue demon hunter, more bravado and brains then fighting skill, I should have sent him right back to England or at least to Giles. I sucked him into my world and, then, when he was tricked into taking Connor, I nearly killed him. I helped turn him into the man who could love you."

"Gee thanks."

"You know what I mean, Lilah. The Wesley who first came to L.A. would never have been able to speak to you let alone fuck you."

"You give yourself too much credit," Wesley said from the doorway. He'd showered the scent of sulphur from his skin and wore a pair of old jeans and a faded red Henley. "I made my own mistakes and my own choices and became my own man. Maybe my path would have been different, but, then, in the end it was, and that was partly your fault."

Angel had the grace to look embarrassed and he started, "Wes, I..."

"No, I'm past blaming you, Angel. The choice to come here to Wolfram & Hart was made before you took the memories of Connor from all of us. That changed us all in ways I doubt you'll ever truly understand. Being the only one to remember him changed you as well."

"You got Fred," Angel said softly, not looking at Lilah.

"And I treasure those memories." Wesley did look at Lilah and she raised her eyes to his, but there wasn't jealousy or anger there. "But, now that I can look back on that time, there was always something missing. She was an ideal, but she wasn't one I ever was meant to attain."

"You think Lilah's all you deserve?"

"Lilah's all I want, and, somewhere inside you know that or you wouldn't have chosen to bring her back. You don't need another lawyer around here, but I need her. I deserve to be happy."

"I hope she's the one who can do that, Wes, I really do."

Wesley nodded and then reached down to help Lilah to her feet. "It's been a long time," he murmured before brushing his lips over her cheek and down to the edge of the scarf that hid her scar. "I can think of much better uses for that piece of silk, Lilah."

Weakness gone from her legs, Lilah smiled at him and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth. "Y'know, I wanted the liaison position that the Senior Partners gave to Eve, but it would have been so hard to see you knowing you didn't remember us. Oh, I have missed you."

Uncomfortable witnessing this, Angel thought about clearing his throat, then silently retreated into the elevator to his suite. There he called Human and Non-human Resources and ordered Lilah's contract amended. As he sat in the dark, brooding, he waited for someone to call to complain, to say that they hadn't meant Lilah who had almost made it to Partner in the firm. She had to be too important, right?

But no one called, no one complained. An hour later a runner brought the contract to him and it read exactly the same as Wesley's and was already signed by the same Senior Partner. All he had to do was sign it, which he did, and the runner took it back to file.

Angel was sure this would come back to bite him in the ass at some point, but he'd deal with it, and he figured Wesley, this Wesley, could control her.

Or at least keep her happy.

Considering he used to fuck Spike--when they'd been soulless, of course--he really had no right to bitch about Wes' choice in bedmates.

And the less thinking about Spike, the better.

Deciding to get shit faced again, Angel reached for the whisky sitting on the bar, and used the remote to completely darken the room and turn on extremely depressing music on the cd player.

*****

When he awoke slumped in his chair, mouth tasting like something foul had died in it, head again pounding, a hint of sunlight was creeping in through the parted curtains. He'd closed them, hadn't he?"

Groaning, Angel wondered if a vampire could actually vomit, and he must have mumbled that aloud, because he got an answer.

"I doubt it will help."

He knew that voice.

Blinking blearily into the dim light, he watched Lorne walk towards him and settle comfortably on the sofa.

"I...I thought you were out."

"I was, even though you won, and congratulations on that, I suppose, but I got one of those rare visions that come to me without listening to someone sing. It didn't make any sense until I put my ear to the ground and heard the stories of the gift the Senior Partners gave you. Unbelievable, but since I ran into Wes and Lilah dancing in the lobby, I guess it's true."

"Yeah...No clue really why, but...three out of Hell." Angel really wanted to ask Lorne to get to the point, but since he'd never expected to see him again, he just sat there, trying to control his stomach and head and tongue.

"Wes was obvious. Lilah a surprise, but then you'd do anything to make Wes happy after screwing with his memories, right?" He didn't wait for Angel's nod, just continued, "But there was one person you screwed over big time, Angel, and you made me do your dirty work for you."

"...Lindsey?"

Lorne scowled at him. "I doubt I'll forgive you anytime soon for that, Angel, but my vision showed me that you can start making it up to him and, therefore, me."

It took a minute, but then what Lorne was saying became clear, and Angel felt himself gaping in surprise. "You want me to bring Lindsey back? McDonald? My nemesis? The same guy who tried to kill me over and over and wanted to take Wolfram & Hart from me?"

"Whom you had me kill because you didn't trust him, even though, in the end, he didn't screw you over, Angel. He did what you asked, and you told me to kill him. I told you I'd do whatever you wanted and you made me do that." Lorne snarled, actually snarled, and Angel sank down into his chair even farther, shoulders rising defensively and eyes dropping to his knees.

"...Okay, maybe that was a bad move..."

"You think?!" Lorne rose and moved to the bar to pour himself a drink and get himself under control. Back turned he sighed and pinched his nose, then said, "Do you know what I've always seen between the two of you? No vision required?"

"Undying hatred?" was Angel's weak answer.

"Wrong. Pure and simple lust."

Angel gaped again and his stomach turned over and he bolted for the bathroom.

"Guess vampires can vomit after all," Lorne muttered absolutely unsympathetic.

When Angel emerged even paler than normal, he slumped back into his chair and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

"I saw you and Lindsey together and it wasn't a memory, Angel. Get him out of Hell, make amends, make him your fucktoy, I don't care, as long he's not there, suffering when all he did was what you asked."

Blinking blearily, Angel sat there for several minutes as images of Lindsey McDonald paraded through his mind and something else tickling there as well--like a dream. It was difficult to acknowledge, but something had existed between them. It had sprung into existence that first day here in Wolfram & Hart. There was just something about the young, brash attorney with both darkness and light at his core, that stirred something in Angel. He made the vampire want to dominate him, fuck him, and yet...something had always held him back, because there was something real between them, just below the surface, waiting to come out and grab them both. That scared him.

So, over the years he'd tried to ignore the arousal he inevitably felt every time McDonald confronted him, every time they fought with fists, swords or words. He'd kept focused on Buffy--and Cordelia and Nina, and he probably should see if Nina was okay--on women with good hearts and good intentions.

Not dangerous and handsome attorneys who made his cock jerk whenever they were in the same room.

"He has stupid hair," he mumbled, trying to fight the idea of Lindsey being his at last.

Lorne rolled his eyes and slammed back his drink. "I wouldn't talk if I were you. I've seen portraits and tintypes of the Scourge of Europe."

Angel groaned, and before he could talk himself out of this--and there were so many reasons this was a bad idea--reached for the phone to call H&NHR again. By the time he hung up, Lorne was pushing the button for the elevator. "Lorne?"

"Not yet, Angel. Maybe never, but not yet," was his only answer as he stepped through the open doors and let them close behind him.

Angel sat for several minutes, wondering what the Hell he was doing, then got to his feet and staggered into his bedroom to face plant on the bed and sleep the rest of the day away...

And as he fell asleep, he tasted a hint of sulphur and wickedness and sin on his lips, felt a hint of pressure there, and remembered just a bit of a tantalizing dream.

*****

His cell phone ringing awakened him and he fumbled in his pocket for it. "'lo?"

"Angel?" It was Buffy. "Are you still at the office?"

"Um...yeah? What time is it?"

"It's nearly three o'clock...in the afternoon," she added after getting no verbal response only a confused noise. "You said you'd be back around five last night. Did something go wrong? Did they not give you Wesley back? Because we can storm their Hell dimension..."

"No," he interrupted, rolling onto his back and rubbing his brow which still ached a bit. "He's back. I just...had some thinking to do."

"Okay...good." She sounded relieved but also a bit concerned, and Angel felt a bit happy that she still could feel concern for him, but then he remembered she was with Spike and that made him feel nauseous again. "Um...we're heading out this evening. Are you coming back to say goodbye?"

"Of course." He tried to put some cheer in his voice but, to his ears, it sounded forced. "I'll be at the hotel in an hour or so."

"Good."

After saying goodbye, Angel hung up and dragged himself into the bathroom for a much needed shower.

*****

The Hyperion was empty except for the core Scoobies and Connor. They were sitting in the lounge finishing an early dinner and greeted him with varying degrees of welcome or, in Spike's case, a scowl. Taking a seat next to Willow, he tried to smile at everyone, then frowned at the sight of Dawn and Connor snuggling together on the opposite couch. 

Oh, right, he'd forgotten about that.

"Yeah, it's disturbing," Xander whispered as an aside. "Your spawn and our innocent Dawnie..."

Dawn snorted in his direction and fed Connor a bite of dimsung.

"Faith and Robin headed back to England this morning with the mobile Slayers. She says 'bye'. Robin expressed some interest in being a liaison with you which would probably mean stationing Faith here in L.A., but we can talk about that in a few weeks. We have a lot to get settled." Buffy smiled up at Spike, then back at Angel. "I'm staying retired for now except for the big stuff. Dawn has to finish school in Rome before we can even think about college," she added, giving her sister a stern look.

"We'll skype daily," Dawn said to Connor with a kiss.

"Stop that," Spike and Angel growled at the same time, then shot each other horrified looks, that made Willow and Buffy giggle and Giles roll his eyes.

"We're going to open a school in Cleveland. The secondary Hellmouth is beginning to act up there. We'll maintain council headquarters in London, but we need a bigger training facility as more and more Slayers continue to be found as they reach adolescence."

"Which I'll be heading with Andrew and Kennedy," Willow added to Giles' explanation, squeezing her girlfriend's hand.

"And I'll continue to go on search." Xander reached for his beer and took a sip. 

"Sounds like you have it all planned out." Angel slowly looked over at Buffy and Spike who were cuddling almost as much as his son and his apparently new girlfriend. "What about you, Spike?"

"Wherever Buffy goes, I go."

Her smile at him made Angel both cold and...oddly content for her. She was...happy. "If I hear you've done anything to hurt her..."

"Yeah, yeah, you'll have my bollocks for dinner."

"I'll be the only vampire with a soul again."

Spike's eyes met his and they reached a quick and silent agreement that Spike would deserve death and willingly accept it.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oil wrestling is still on the table."

Dawn giggled, Kennedy looked intrigued, and Connor and Xander gagged.

*****

A couple hours later everyone was piling into taxis--miraculously running again through most of the city as it slowly got back to normal--to head to the airport. As Dawn and Connor kissed as if their world was ending, Buffy took Angel aside with a nod to Spike to go on and get into the car. He frowned but did so, leaving them alone in a corner of the courtyard.

"Are you okay, Angel?"

While he'd told them all about getting Wesley back and taking Lilah as well, he'd kept his third choice a secret because he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. He needed to see Lindsey. He needed to see what might be.

It would never be what he'd had with Buffy--what he might have had with her for the next fifty or so years--and he'd always mourn that, but he could accept her choice. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, but he'd accept it because she was so obviously happy.

"Yeah, Buffy. I am. I want you to be happy and, while it hurts it's not with me, even I can see how much that idiot loves you."

She gave him a watery smile and hugged him tightly. Holding her back for a moment, Angel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then slowly stepped back, freeing them both. 

"Be safe and be happy, Buffy."

"I want that for you, too, Angel."

"I'll try. I have eternity if it works out, right?"

She nodded. "We'll keep in touch. No more going your lone wolfy way, okay?"

"Okay."

Taking a step back and towards the remaining taxi, she yelled for her sister, then waved to Angel and slid into the car behind a reluctant Dawn.

Connor joined him and they watched the car start down the street, turn the corner and disappear.

"She's very young, Connor."

"Yeah, but neither of us are entirely human. I didn't expect it, never saw her coming, but, we fit, dad."

Smiling at being called dad, Angel clapped his son on the shoulder, then guided him back into the hotel. "Time for you to head back to school. I'm sure you can make up those finals you've missed with the 'was in L.A. when the gas main blew' excuse."

Connor groaned, but agreed. "But then I'm transferring to UCLA. I'm serious about that. I want to be closer to you."

"I'd like that, too."

*****

It was nearly midnight when Angel returned to Wolfram & Hart. The Hyperion was locked and empty again, though Angel thought it might make a good headquarters for the Slayers on the West Coast. Connor was on a bus back to Stanford trying to cram for his calculus final. 

The offices were quiet, only a skeleton staff and the cleaners. He nodded to a few people he recognized and headed up to his suite. The lights were on, but that wasn't surprising. The cleaning team worked when he was gone and often left the place as cozy as it got.

Tired, he scrubbed a hand over his face and slipped off his jacket, letting it fall to the sofa, before kicking off his shoes and heading into his bedroom. Crossing the threshold, he tensed.

He wasn't alone.

Lindsey turned from the window, his face blank, still clothed in the outfit he'd died in, blood stains and bullet holes included.

"I read the addendum. I just have one question, Angel. Why the fuck would you ask for me back? No, make that more than one question. Do you mean to make me your slave? Make me do anything you want, your puppet on short strings? Fuck that. I don't know why you made me your third request, but I'm not playing your games. I didn't lie to you. I trusted you. I was on your team and you fucked me over and, worse, you didn't even do it yourself. You had Lorne kill me. Lorne! He was my friend and you made him shoot me and leave me bleeding out..."

"McDonald, shut up," Angel growled, crossing the room and pinning him to the floor to ceiling windows in a split second.

"Gonna throw me out these like you did that vamp during our first meeting?" Lindsey smiled, all dark and toothy.

And Angel smelled his arousal, the same as always whenever they touched, and he gave up any idea that this had been the wrong choice, that this--that Lindsey--wasn't what he wanted.

"That would be a waste."

Lindsey glared up at him and grabbed his wrists, trying to force Angel to release him, but all Angel did was press him harder to the glass and slot one knee between his legs until their bodies were touching from chest to thighs.

They were both hard. They were both hard and realized it, and Angel's wolfish grin was met with Lindsey's darkening eyes and a sneer.

"You always got off on violence, Angel."

"With you, McDonald, and you always reeked of lust when I touched you."

Snorting, Lindsey moved his hands up to Angel's biceps and took them in hard grips as he rotated his hips against the vampire's. "So, are you finally going to do something about it?"

"I got you out of Hell, Lindsey. I'm not forcing anything on you. You want this, you make the next move." As he spoke, his voice low and rough with desire, Angel let him go and took a step back.

Lindsey arched his neck, popping it, then charged and drove them both onto the bed. Grunting, Angel took control and flipped them, straddling Lindsey and blanketing his body.

Neither would ever admit to being the initiator of the first kiss, but Lindsey was the first to come, howling into the pillows as Angel stripped his cock with one hand and held him up on his knees with the other to drive into him at a hard, punishing pace. 

"Come, you bastard, come already," Lindsey hissed, weakly bucking his hips backwards, his orgasm having wrecked him.

Angel grabbed his hips, tilting him forward, and mindlessly plowed him deeper until he came with a loud growl and flash of fangs. Panting harshly, he pulled free from Lindsey's tight body and collapsed next to him on his back. Dragging him down next to him, he watched from hooded eyes as Lindsey curled under his arm and against his chest, still breathing hard.

"Shit, we should have done this years ago."

Smirking, Angel let his eyes drift down the damp, trembling body of his new lover, taking in the bruises forming on his hips. He wondered how fast they'd heal.

He wondered what Lindsey's blood tasted like.

Promising himself he'd find out tomorrow, he reached behind himself and turned off the lamp.

"We have an eternity to make up for those years," he murmured against Lindsey's forehead.

"You think I'm going to stay with you forever?"

Lindsey's question didn't come off as pissed or annoyed. There was actually a hint of wistfulness in it, and Angel responded honestly, "I don't plan on letting you go any time soon. You'll be lucky if I let you out of this bed."

"When you let yourself go, you're a dark son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Angelus is still in me."

"Yeah, I think I prefer Angel, even this kind of sadistic version." Lindsey didn't try to get away, though. He snuggled closer and Angel let his hand wander down to his waist, curling around it.

"Well, that must make you a masochist."

"I worked for Wolfram & Hart, what do you think." He laughed darkly and Angel joined him.

This was going to work.

McDonald was absolutely nothing like Buffy, would keep him on his toes, and had an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. He smacked that ass just to feel him quiver.

"Do that again and I'll be up for round two sooner than you'd have thought."

Angel smacked him harder. Lindsey growled and crawled up Angel's body to devour his mouth in a hungry, hot kiss that left them breathless which should have been impossible for two dead guys.

*****  
 _  
The room is in shadows, only moonlight through the windows illuminating the dark corners. He sits in a comfortable chair, one leg crossed casually over the other knee. Dressed only in a pair of simple black trousers, he sips from a glass. The red liquid stains his lips until he licks them clean and he savors the taste. The otter's blood is warm but it's the mingling with the exotic flavor of the man in his bed that makes the taste so exquisite._

_The blood he drank straight from the femoral artery should be stale, dead. No heart beats to drive it through the still body, no breaths oxygenate it, but it tastes like life._

_And magic._

_And just a hint of hellfire._

_He drains the glass, sets it aside, licks his lips again, and focuses his languid attention on the strip of moonlight across the middle of the bed. His sharp eyes take in the sight of the two still weeping wounds, mixing blood with semen into a pink streak along the inner thigh. As he watches a hand snakes down to the flaccid cock, strokes it, slowly at first, then, as it hardens, faster. A moan comes from the man and his hips arch, his thighs quiver. More blood leaks from the wounds as precum slicks his fingers._

_He's putting on a show._

_A feral smile and Angel's out of the chair, on the bed, hand wrapping tightly around the base of the cock before the man can bring himself to release._

_Their eyes meet._

_Brown tinged with yellow meet dusty blue, both hazy with desire._

_"Did I give you permission to come?"_

_He's rewarded with a scowl and a growl and a wriggle. Dipping his head he tastes the blood, the semen--belonging to both of them--along the crease of the thigh. "Maybe after I've fucked you again." His voice is lust-laden and deep and slightly amused._

_"Then get on with it."_

_Angel laughs as he flips Lindsey onto his stomach. "Always so eager," he says with a smack of his hand on the already bruised hip as he yanks him to his knees._

_Lindsey quivers and spreads his legs._

The End


End file.
